Monday, December 29, 2025

Bye Bye Baggy

    I bought a new ensemble before shoulder replacement, knowing I needed pants that pulled on and easy to use button/zip front shirts. The pants, especially, are not really my style but I figured Costco prices would make buying them less painful. Before that Costco trip I did not own a pair of sweats. Today I am wearing a velour "tracksuit" in plum with a zip front top that includes a hood. A hood. Inside my home. I know this would be someone's ideal comfy active wear because I saw a young woman wearing the same outfit at Harbor Freight a few days ago. But when I wear it, I feel like I should be inactive, on a couch, smoking cigarettes, and watching soaps. My body may be baggy, but my brain is not wired for this. 
    Since the most painful activity I did before shoulder surgery was pulling up and fastening my pants, elastic waistbands may have been a good idea before now, but I dislike them because what goes up tends to come down. And a drawstring seems a flimsy thing to stand between me and accidentally mooning someone. One pair of my sweats, however, decided to defy gravity as, throughout the day, the waistband headed north toward my armpits in a futile search for my waist. That kind of upward mobility is not a comfortable sensation. I prefer my clothes to stay where I put them, especially when I am wearing them.
    Since my shoulder is healing quickly, I can already shimmy into some of my pull on dress pants and the pull over tops I prefer. If I believed the saying clothes make the man, I would never have married Reed, whose preferred style is somewhere between homeless and hobo. But clothes certainly make Connie, and baggy clothes make me feel like a bag lady. I will be very happy when it's time to bid baggy bye bye.
   
     

 

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

Tears at Christmas

     My writing usually improves if I don't publish it until the next day when I have had time to give it more thought and better wording, but this poem is time sensitive, and I want it to help those already experiencing the bittersweet blessing of Christmas, so I will post this one today. 
 
Tears at Christmas 
 
There were tears at Christmas from the first,
the pain and joy of Jesus' birth,
sorrow for the price he'd pay
for God to take our sins away.
There were tears at Christmas.
 
There are tears at Christmas, for many 
seek the joy we're taught there ought to be.
Sorrow instead, is better known  
in war torn lands and broken homes.
There are tears at Christmas. 
 
There are tears at Christmas, for those who mourn 
 remember joy with their loved one,
sorrow that those days are gone
though they live on, in heaven.
There are tears at Christmas.
 
There are tears at Christmas, and God feels
our pain, yet that is how He heals.
Sorrow on earth must come before 
the joy that heaven will restore,
and no more tears at Christmas.   
 
12/23/25 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Tuesday, December 16, 2025

Labels and Letting Go

   I've been mulling over this idea as I sent out Christmas cards this week, but didn't have time to write it until I finished the cards.
 

    Labels and Letting Go   
 
Each year I send out Christmas cards,
an old tradition, made less hard
by computer composed letters
and pre-printed address labels. 
 
Change of address for those who've moved,
on label sheets, is easy too.
But for those who moved beyond earth's shore 
these stickers stand for something more.
 
It ought to be a simple task
to throw old labels in the trash,
except they trigger memories
of lost friends still so dear to me.
 
I find myself at end of day
with labels I can't throw away.
Though I know that leaving their names on
won't change the fact that they are gone. 
 
My superstitious Christmas wish
to keep them on my address list 
pretends, by merely doing so,
I do not have to let them go. 
 
12/16/25